


You aren't going to die

by Red_Reaper



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 08:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Reaper/pseuds/Red_Reaper
Summary: Grell kept repeating that to a very frustrated William.





	You aren't going to die

**Author's Note:**

> Just another silly dream I had. My english sucks in writing matters, so please be patient with me and if you spot any mistake, please let me know.

Grell Sutcliff's smile could be heard in the cheerful tone of his voice filling every space of their apartment, painfully piercing his ears.

“You aren't definitely going to die, dear". He could hear him talking in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. “I will just make you a soup and everything will be just fine".

_Nothing would ever be fine again, if he was forced to take a week of rest..._

_He hated it. And hated it A LOT._

“Oh! C'mon! Isn't that bad! You can spend all day in bed, resting, eating whatever you want without something to worry about!" The redhead complained at his gloomy attitude, moving his index finger from a side to another, like an old mother nagging his son. “Don't you even dare! I'm just 23 years old the most!" Sighing and fixing his hair into a messy ponytail, Grell Sutcliff crossed his arms. “Stop pouting like a baby then! I would love to be in your situation! No work, someone taking care of me..."

“Pff, like if you knew how to cook or properly care of someone else". William T. Spears replied, looking away and fixing his glasses in annoyance. “And of course that you think it's fun if you don't even do your work at all!"

“Hey! I'm a good wife! Be really thankful that you look really awful or I would have beat your ass by now, for being rude with your lovely wife!" Grell Sutcliff huffed raising one eyebrow. “You aren't going to die just by losing one or two days of work because of a silly flu. Everyone suffers of it at least once, even humans, and it's better if you stay at home since I'm positively sure that it's contagious and Alan has already a lot to worry about with the thorns of death, to end being sick too thanks to you! The poor dear! And if you get Ronnie sick, sure he would commit acidental suicide by drinking a couple of beers or something!"

“Then you will get it too and you will have to take a week off, too" William replied with clenched teeth.

“Hopefully. And that would mean two weeks lost for you, since I expect you to take care of me, obviously" the redhead said, happily clapping his hands together. “Now, stop acting like a human kid and go upstairs and get some rest while I cook you a soup".

“You don't even know how..."

“Right, right, while I call Ronnie so he can help me to cook you a soup! Happy now!?" Grell asked, crossing his arms again, frowning. “How I'm supposed to learn about how to cook if you can't even let me practice!"

“Let me at least die from just one thing at once, please".

“William T. Spears you definitely aren't going to die with just a silly flu!" The redhead yelled, following each step of his husband through the stairs with his gaze, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“I prefer to die if I have to stay in bed, doing nothing. I can't even imagine all the overtime that it will cause, honestly". William replied under his breath, opening the door of their bedroom and tossing his scythe, silently cursing his luck.

_“I'm pretty sure that he had it first and then he kissed me today in the office and now I'm sick and forced to get a week off! I'm going to kill him with my own hands! Once they stop aching, honestly..."_

“What a drama queen, for god's sake!" Grell Sutcliff gave a deep breath, going through his phone contacts. “At least Ronnie knows how to prepare a fantastic soup to knock him out and put him to sleep".

“Grell! Where's _my medicine!? _I tell you that this headache it's going to kill me". William T. Spears's muffled voice could be heard upstairs. Grell wondered if he was blowing his nose or something.

“Dearie, for the one hundred time today, you aren't going to die with a silly flu. I'm comming with a big spoon of your favorite medicine!"

_That disgusting thing made by Undertaker? No thanks!_

“I have told you to get proper medicine, one hundred times".

“Stop complaining! Isn't that bad! It helped like dozen of times before!"

_“No wonder why he never gets sick! If I were a virus, I wouldn't want to get closer to that disgusting thing either, honestly"._

“Nobody dies of a flu, honey. Except for that guy we collected the other day. But I swear that there was something wrong with him, I swear it! Now, I hope that you're already in bed and ready for your medicine like a good husband.

_If he wasn't precisely alive anymore, why on earth he needed his taste buds!? It didn't matter, that disgusting liquid was going to kill them anyways. Unless they were immortal like him._

_He really hated to be sick..._

_He really... did._

* * *

“Acho!" William T. Spears suddenly sneezed while filling his paperwork

“Oh boy! Seems like someone it's getting sick!" The redhead said with a trace of worry in his voice, a few chairs away from his.

_Damn it._

_He was definitely going to die this time if it wasn't just a simply seasonal allergy or just an isolated sneeze._

_If the flu didn't kill him, then his “wife" would._

_Not... fucking... again._


End file.
